


La Danse Macabre

by HauntedGremlin



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Tales From The SMP - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butler - freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to other characters of Tales from the SMP, Sir Billiam - Freeform, Web Series: Tales from the SMP, no beta we die like Drew P. Wiener - broke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29510523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HauntedGremlin/pseuds/HauntedGremlin
Summary: There is an old mansion in the forests of northern France. Hidden, immersed into silence, abandoned a long time ago.For tourists, the property is just an interesting attraction, nothing more than another haunted house. For the residents of the nearby town, it remains a legend to frighten unruly children.But for us… Oh for us, it's more than just another fairytale with ghosts and magic.This is a story about forbidden, tragic love that not even death ended.Would you like to hear it?
Relationships: Niki | Nihachu & Ranboo & Technoblade, Niki | Nihachu/Technoblade, Ranboo/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 125





	1. | Important notes from the author: please read

Hello,  
I'd like to start by resolving a few issues with the plot and technical organization of the story. I hope you don't mind it!

  * This story is all about fictional characters from Tales of the SMP – **not** about content creators.   
  

  * This fic is dark af. Seriously. It implies a lot of disturbing actions and triggers: torture, gaslighting, misogyny, not healthy masochism, praise kink, and a few more. I will mention it in tags as well but please be aware of that. They will be edited and added with every new chapter as "additional tags" but also I will try to add them in the notes of specific chapters.
  * Because of dark themes I don’t put characters in tags – only relationships. If you found it – you were looking for it, stop lying. 
  * If you want to read dark/sad/gore parts, but do not want to read smut – I got you. Chapters are going to be cut and marked properly - as NSFW.
  * I forgot to mention: Its slow burn. Like reaally slow, so please dont expect to full sadist mode in first chapters. I like building tension <3



  * English is not my first language. I am trying my best but it still not going to be as good as native. Sorry about that.
  * It’s my first time writing smut as well…  
... but I think, I read enough books and fanfictions in my life to make it works.



This story includes as well, few major changes about the lore in Masquerade. I will make sure to note them when they appear.  
What is most important now:

  * Story is placed in northen France. - we know London exist in Tales of The SMP, so why not France.
  * Times: around XVIIIth century (I guess its called "early modern France") - times before Revolution for sure, but it doesn't need to be specific years. We just don't want to our beloved sir Billiam to be behaded, right?
  * We were blessed by Ranboo with lore secret about Tales:  
 _“When my character John John in tales of the SMP he talked about an orphan boy with brown hair that randomly disappeared one day… There was also a report that Billiam came in and stole the money… guess the money wasn’t the only thing that he stole.”  
_  
I like this idea. And yes, it’s going to be used in this story. But it makes it difficult when you think about the characters’ ages. I don’t want to mark this story as “underage” (and I know that “underage” age is different around the world ) – that’s why I checked in AO3 FAQ:  
 _“Underage [tag] refers to descriptions or depictions of sexual activity by characters under the age of eighteen (18).”_
    * Butler’s age: 18 (few months after his birthday, but come on, he is poor, no one really remembers when he was born), and he was taken from an orphanage while he was 8 years old.
    * Billiam’s age: 29.
    * Lyaria’s age: 23
    * Others: around 25/27.



I think it's all for now.  
Story will be posted in chapters. Irregularly.


	2. [ I ] Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major canon changes:  
> \- Implied marriage between Billiam and Liaria  
> \- Hubert is mentioned - canonically he was supposed to be the second butler, but did not appear in the "the Masquerade". In this story I made him gardener.
> 
> Additional Tags:  
> (please if you see that I forgot or didn't think about important tag - tell me via comment. Lets treat this chapter as our guinea pig, ok?)  
> \- light angst & violence

It all started with a delivery man who stood on the doorstep of a mansion deep in the woods one afternoon.  
Everyone in town knew who it belonged to - Sir Billiam III was regarded in the neighborhood as just another absurdly rich upper-class freak. An aristocrat with a distinguished name and influence with the king. Few people have ever seen it with their eyes, though. Once every two weeks, his gardener would show up in town to run errands or pick up the mail. Nothing else indicated that the aristocrat was even alive and inhabiting the property.

This time, however, the letter came only a few hours after the servant's visit, so it was decided to deliver it in person.  
The delivery man crossed the gate of the property, which was left open, without any problems. Apparently, the aristocrat had no fear of assault. Anyway, from the iron gate to the front door there was still quite a stretch of road, surrounded by manicured beds of flowers and shrubs. The man passed a fountain that had been built just below the entrance to the huge mansion. Instinctively, he pulled the cap off his head, cradling it in his hands. The white building was intensely intimidating. Still, it seemed completely abandoned. Admittedly, he knew nothing about its owner other than the fact that he was absurdly rich, but he was expecting... He didn't really know what.

He didn't know what such people did during the day or how they live.  
But they should have a family? Children? Friends? Maybe some pets? The man expected to hear voices, maybe some laughter, music or footsteps. But no sound came from inside the mansion. It was as if everything around him had suddenly died.  
He pounded on the door, pulling his cap nervously over his forehead. Almost jumped when the heavy door opened almost immediately. It was as if the person on the other side was just waiting for a sign. He was opened by a tall, young man... Actually, not even, more like a teenager who had just entered adulthood. The boy looked decent - well-trimmed dark brown hair, white shirt with a collar. Plus a matching black vest that probably cost more than he could earn in a year, decent pants...

_A son of Billiam? Or maybe just another servant?_

"The Lord is not at home." Said the boy softly, looking at the stranger.  
"Em. Letter. The letter came."  
"I thought Hubert had picked up everything. My God, he's always forgetting something." The young man muttered under his breath picking up the package. A faint smile disappeared immediately and his face went pale as he glanced at the envelope. Man looked at the boy concerned - he had kids his age, he saw when things were wrong.  
"Is everything alr..."  
"Au revoir, monsieur!" The boy slammed the door in his face, leaving the man in shock.

_\- * -_

_My beloved butler,  
by the time you read this, I am already on the ship back from New York to Liverpool. I anticipate returning home for the first Sunday in August.  
_ _You must know, I decided to hold a ball to celebrate my upcoming marriage to Miss Liaria. Maybe a Masquerade would be a good idea?  
I'm attaching the guest list - make sure they receive their invitations as soon as possible.  
_ _Miss Liaria's luggage and any trinkets she needs should be delivered soon. Put them in the bedroom on the first floor._

Liaria? The man furrowed his brows, trying to remember if he had ever seen this woman before his eyes. He would remember that for sure. He returned to reading the letter.

 _I believe I don't need to instruct you on how to prepare the property for my return and the upcoming party. I expect nothing less than perfection, especially in the rooms prepared for my spouse. That would be_ _disgraceful and inexcusable.  
I'll see you soon,  
Sir Billiam III.  
_

Butler looked at the attached guest list. It wasn't particularly long… That was unusual. For someone of Billiam's status to hold a wedding in such a modest manner was downright inappropriate behavior. Was he planning two parties? Or was he planning to hide his marriage? But why? Something was wrong with the girl? No, Billiam would never look at any woman of low status. At times the boy got the impression that apart from gold and travel, little else interested his master. Numerous invitations to balls and parties in all the capitals of Europe were at once declined and burned. The man also avoided popular sports and occasionally organized hunts with friends. Nothing more. The butler could not understand why just now Billiam had decided to change his life so much.

He looked at the list again. People as Sir Oliver and Lord Sebastian were known in this area- they often visited his master when he returned from his travels.  
In red ink, on the very corner of the sheet was written just one sentence: "bedrooms will not be necessary".  
_Immediately_ he got awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. This short, calligraphed note explained practically everything.

The boy sighed, folding the card and slipping it back into the envelope.

He leaned his head against the edge of the couch, turning it to look at the portrait of his Lord hanging over the extinguished, scrubbed fireplace.  
Oh, how he hated that painting, depicting a stately man clad in rich black robes. He hated the gold frame where dust was perpetually nestled, hated the name stamped on the badge, hated that piercing, the controlling look of the Lord, that weighed on his shoulders whenever he cleaned the living room.

One thing was certain - the painter had done everything in his power to make Billiam the demigod he thought he was.

Butler never understands how anyone could look so... delicate, yet majestic. The Lord in the portrait was resting with a copy of the "L'Art de la Guerre" in his hand and a glass of red wine in the other. Dressed according to the fashion of the time in silks and furs. The only deviation was the man's hair as his hatred of white wigs was widely known. He accentuated this by dying his naturally light hair red - giving it a fashionable rose pompadour hue.  
Deep colors corresponded with the shadow falling on the man's face, which gave the whole picture a mysterious, even sensual character.  
It was as if Billiam knew everything that went on in the mansion, even if at the same moment he was discovering the beauty of the mountains in Peru or tasting Indian spices. And yet the butler could not take his eyes off him. Every evening he stared at the portrait as if hypnotized. Sometimes he even told him stories - that the roses had already bloomed, that the mare had given birth to a new foal, which would probably become the greatest pride of the stud. Simple stories of everyday life.

He was looking forward to his Lord's return. His usually brief visits of a few days did not happen often. Billiam was a busy man with a lot of friends around the world.  
And... living alone in a mansion deep in the woods was tiring.  
A young man usually spent his evenings looking through illustrated albums of various places in Europe. He'd learned languages from a few books he'd gotten a few years earlier from Billiam. Wasn't sure even why pinkette bothers about it - he made clear that butler isn't allowed to leave the estate further than the city and any travel by the lord's side remained a trivial dream.

However, the mention of marriage meant something completely different. He knew it would come to this. He knew that eventually, Sir Billiam would decide to settle down after years of traveling around the world. That he would take some rich girl as his wife and assume the position of governor in the area. He had refused to accept the position for months.  
The butler was sure his master would choose this property. Even if he always complained about her size, he couldn't leave his _little secret_ unattended.

Servant closed his eyes, trying to ignore the quiet hum of whispers. They have become more and more persistent lately. Like the vines slowly making their way out from behind the painting in the library.  
He made a mental note to remind Hubert to remove them as soon as possible.

\- * -

The following weeks were an endless nightmare. All sorts of packages began to arrive at the mansion - both boxes of things belonging (probably) to the future mistress of the house, but also flowers, rich ornaments, which were to decorate the entire ballroom and the entrance hall. They brought the first bridal gifts, wines, eventually even sweets from Paris.  
Billiam's luggage arrived last, along with two additional packages - wedding outfits.

The boy remained on his feet from morning to night, trying to control the ever-present chaos. Hubert had disappeared with the flowers and wreaths in the coatroom, so butler could not rely on him.  
What was even worse, the whispers filling the entire mansion were becoming more excited by the day.

_The Lord was coming home._

  
This Sunday, Butler waited by the window for perhaps an hour, glancing now and then only at the supper left on the fire. Eventually, however, he spotted a silhouette on horseback crossing the estate gate. Wiped his hands in a cloth, threw off his apron quickly, and dashed for the door.  
He opened them perfectly the moment the rider jumped off his horse.  
  
A slight smile appeared on Billiam's face as he handed the gardener the reins. He patted the animal on the back some more and moved quietly towards the young servant.

„Welcome home, Sir” Butler bowed deeply, driving his gaze to the floor.  
„Ah yes, home sweet home.” Billiam took off his traveling cloak, throwing it into the servant's hands. Immediately afterward, the riding gloves flew. He looked around the undeniably scrubbed hall, content to look at the decorations hung up for the upcoming masquerade.  
"Is dinner ready?"  
"Yes, Sir. It can be served at any time. " the younger man said quietly, hastily hanging up his lord's coat on a hanger in one of the closets by the door. The gloves ended up in the drawer next to it. He looked at Billiam expecting further instructions. Instead, the man merely sighed deeply, combing his fingers through his long, pink hair.  
"Bring it to my bedroom in half an hour. I need to freshen up after my trip. "  
"Shall I prepare a bath, Sir?"

Billiam merely waved his hand, already heading up the stairs to the first floor. He clearly didn't want to be bothered any longer.

  
\- * -

Twenty-eight minutes...  
Twenty-nine minutes...  
Twenty-nine and thirty seconds... forty-five... fifty-nine...  
He heard a quiet knock on the door just as the hand of his pocket watch jumped to thirty.   
  
"Come in."   
The butler slipped into the semi-darkened bedroom, carefully maneuvering the tray with the meal. He glanced only fleetingly at Billiam, who was sitting on the bed already dressed in a nightgown over which he had imposed a silk robe hand-decorated with a crane motif - one of several he had brought back after his last trip to China. The man's hair was still wet and loose and his skin was shiny from a recent bath. He set the crockery carefully on the table.   
"What do we have today?"  
"Veal in white sauce and souffle" young man bit his lip slightly. While he had even been happy with his idea before, now he had lost all confidence. He wasn't sure if Billiam would like classic French dishes, especially after such a long absence. Lord slowly approached the desk, watching the butler pour red wine into a glass with trembling hands.  
"Good. They've been feeding me corn and beef for the last three months. Ugh." Pinkette shook his head in distaste, finally sitting down to dinner. The butler breathed a sigh of relief, deciding not to disturb his master or bother him with questions. Was he curious about his journey across America? Of course. Sometimes, when Billiam was in a good mood (usually after a few glasses of stronger alcohol) he would sit in an armchair, telling his fascinated servant about wonderful lands and places that he had seen only in illustrations. But now Billiam was tired, and the butler knew better to let him spend the evening quietly.

Several minutes later, the lord finished his meal, wiping his mouth in his napkin.  
Without a word butler reached for the empty plates, wanting to leave the bedroom as soon as possible. He froze as the pinkette suddenly clamped a hand on his wrist, imprisoning him in a steel pressure.  
"S-Sir?"  
"Oh butler..." muttered the man, slowly rising from his chair. "I never thought I'd admit it, but... Americans can be so inspiring, you know?" He smiled, noting that with every step forward, the servant took two back. He didn't try to pull away but was clearly doing his best to avoid contact. Exactly as he was taught years ago.  
"I don't understand, Sir. " He muttered, wandering a horrified look across his calm face. He was looking for any kind of anchor point. He made no mistake, there was no reason for Billiam to act this way. Taking another step back he encountered the worst possible obstacle - a wall. Pinkette took another step closer, clenching his fingers even tighter.  
"You see, I had the pleasure of visiting an old friend who owns a beautiful tobacco plantation. He had some servants who, shall we say... needed training. "

_Training._

A word that had been burned into his mind since he was eight or nine years old. Butler trembled as he felt Billiam moving closer and closer to him. He was too scared to make any sound. He didn't even know how he was supposed to defend himself. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong, there was no need to "show him where he belonged" (as Billiam liked to put it).  
"I always thought I knew my stuff. That I can train the perfect servant. After all, I raised you, didn't I?" He smirked, placing his free hand on the boy's pale cheek."My beloved golden ingot. The most devoted man in the whole of France. But now, I know I could do so much more. Tell me, butler… Would you ever betray me? Did you even though about it? About running away?"

The butler gulped. Did he? There were times when he was dreaming about leaving this place but… He had nothing and nowhere to go. Billiam would find him anyway. He couldn't focus on his own thoughts. Every sweet word spoken by the pink-haired man hid a threat behind it. After all, he knew that. And yet he desired nothing more than to hear these hypocritical praises.  
Boy wouldn't dare lie, so instead lifted his gaze nervously to his master’s eyes. That was enough. The next thing he felt was a painful grasp on his jaw as Billiam’s long nails dug into his cheeks.  
“N-No…”  
“No, w h a t ?” Pressure became even stronger. The younger man felt his mistake before he could even understand it.  
“No, _Sir_.” He cried out.  
“I almost thought you forgot your manners. I don't get home often enough, do I? You have too much freedom and you start allowing yourself to be cheeky and disrespectful.” Billiam placed his thumb on butler’s lower lips forcing his mouth to lift.”You know what we do to rough talkers around here. I already have one silent servant, but don't think I would miss your voice.”  
  
  
_Hubert.  
_Butler stood paralyzed, shaking in silent panic. He didn't dare make a sound, terrified by every word the man spoke.  
He didn't want to end up like Hubert. He couldn't.  
Pinkette smiled even wider, noticing single tears on the boy's face. So pathetically fragile. Even after 10 years, nothing has changed.  
Eventually, Billiam let go of his jaw, sliding his hand over his reddened cheek. He wiped away the tears with fingers, then licking them off.  
“P-Please, forgive me, Sir…” The boy whispered, trying to take a deeper breath. His voice was trembling as he was still terrified by the vision of punishment, for such a small mistake.  
“Get out of here. I want to rest and you just keep bothering me.”

Butler immediately bowed deeply and wordlessly retreated out the bedroom door.  
  


\- * -

Billiam put a loose strand of pink hair behind his ear, walking over to the window. He picked up the glass of wine left on the desk. The view of the forest plunged into darkness was relaxing far more than putting up with the servant's rowdy behavior.

Nights were beautiful in this area. The only source of light outside the mansion was a town a few miles away, so he could easily admire the constellations twinkling in the summer sky.  
He sipped some wine, finally ridding his mouth of the salty taste of tears.  
“Home, sweet home.” Pinkette laughed to himself. Who would have thought retirement would be so exciting?  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that this is going to be quite a long story...?  
> And yes, Butler doesn't have a name so... I am so sorry about endless using "butler", "boy" or "he".


	3. [ II ] Tales From the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I accidentally delete the entire written 2nd chapter from 2 weeks ago? Yeah. I had to rewrite it and re-translate it which unfortunately delayed the appearance of the text a lot. I am really sorry about it and I hope you will still like this version!
> 
> The good news: I had one day off and decided to draw Billiam's family crest. Because, why not. Every detail has its own symbolism! You can try to find everything <3  
> [Enjoy](https://i.imgur.com/fNFgLUG.jpg)
> 
> TW:  
> Just light angst/violence.  
> And misogyny, because it's 1700s and I am so sorry girls - our lives were awful and really unfair.

Big wedding day was approaching in small steps. The butler sometimes got the impression that Billiam did not pay even the slightest attention to this - the lord spent most of his time in the office, immersed in his work of managing the lands of northern France and the estates in Paris. He also devoted time to his hobbies, playing the piano or sometimes spending long hours with a servant playing chess. Butler never left his master's side, ready to serve at any time. Had it not been for the daily visits of messengers with gifts and letters, no one would have guessed that anything was about to change Even the bride was not going to show up at the mansion before the church ceremony. Her gown had been taken a few days earlier by one of Miss Liaria's closest maids. Boy asked no questions.

\- * -

Morning 15. August could be described as almost pleasant - summer had spared them the heat, a cool breeze blew in from the sea, and the forest provided extra coolness and shade.   
Billiam looked at black, velvet garments carefully prepared to be worn at the wedding ceremony. Golden trims, dark red sash... everything was well-tailored and exactly as he liked. He took the brooch with the family crest in his hand. Three black skulls with a black rose wrapped in ribbon. He turned the ornament slightly, examining it under the light. At the bottom is stamped the family motto: "sic semper tyrannis".   
Oh, how ironic. The same tyrants his ancestors had wanted to overthrow - today were his ticket into the world of the upper classes.  
And it's all thanks to the right _arrangements_.

The man sighed deeply, relishing the careful touch of the butler who had been arranging his pink hair for a long moment. Though the boy tried to glance into the mirror's reflection only when it was completely necessary, Billiam had caught him doing it once or twice. Though focused on the task at hand, he was clearly wandering his thoughts elsewhere.  
"What's on your mind so much?" Billiam finally asked.  
"Nothing, Sir. " replied the dark-haired boy quietly, lowering his gaze.  
"Is this about the wedding?"  
"No... I mean yes. But it isn't really important, my lord." He said after a moment of extended silence.  
"You are paying more attention to this thought than to me, so clearly it is quite important..."  
"Sir... This woman... Miss Liaria... Is she going to live here? Or... Would you... perhaps go to Paris with her after the wedding?" He almost choked, feeling a sudden surge of sadness tighten his throat. Oh god, he felt foolish, his voice trembling at the very thought that Billiam might...  
"Are you afraid?" muttered the pink-haired man, summoning him with a nod. The boy immediately squatted down next to his master, looking away and avoiding answer." Butler..."

He remained silent, biting his lip. He didn't even react when Billiam tightened his fingers on his side, pulling him close and planting him in his lap as if he were still a child.

"What are you so afraid of?" The man rested his chin comfortably against his shoulder, embracing him at the waist. The smell of sandalwood and cigarette smoke wafted through the air - Billiam never smelled any different. Butler clenched his eyelids, trying not to cry. His subconscious screamed for him to run away immediately, but he was unable to even twitch. Instead, he remained silent, allowing the lord to continue speaking. "Are you afraid I might not come back? That I would leave you here alone with Hubert and go permanently to the capital?"  
Younger man just nodded violently.  
"Och, butler~ Don't let such a silly fear cloud your pretty head. Liaria will live here after the wedding. as a good wife should. This is not subject to any discussion…"  
"But... Does she know? Will she understand... everything that is going on here? What we protect here?" Billiam thought for a moment, then snorted with laughter.  
"She won't have to." He merely stated placing a brief kiss on the boy's neck and immediately released him from his embrace after that."Go tell Hubert to get the horses ready. We have to leave to the church right away."  
"Shall... I go too, Sir?"

For a moment the man looked like he was weighing all the pros and cons, but eventually he shook his head negatively.  
"Hubert will go. Someone has to stay at the mansion." The butler nodded obediently, immediately getting off Billiam's lap and moving towards the door. "Oh and one more thing, Butler... "  
Younger man stopped in half-step hearing the master's voice. He felt his heavy gaze on his shoulders.  
"Yes, Sir?"  
"Really, you don't have to worry about her. He's just a minor inconvenience."  
"Of course Sir. I trust you and your decisions. "

\- * -

At exactly 4pm he heard a pounding at the door. He furrowed his brow - it was too soon. Even if the mass had ended earlier, neither Billiam nor the guests would have had time to return yet. The butler cautiously looked out from behind the heavy hall curtains spotting a young man standing by the door. He bent them over.

"Please excuse me, Sir, but Lord Billiam is not present." He said softly, blocking the newcomer from entering the house. What was still missing was for the stranger to destroy with his presence all the effort put into preparing the wedding. "If you were not invited to the ball, you may leave a message for the Lord. I will give it to him immediately when he returns from church. " The boy rummaged for a moment in the numerous pockets of his colorful robe. Butler looked at him slightly irritated. He had no time for such childish games.  
The stranger didn't even look like a local. His outfit, although it clearly bore the hallmarks of aristocratic fashion, shone in shades of green and purple. The yellow and red embroidery and sewing gave it an abstract feel, but the butler was somehow not particularly knowledgeable about fashion. He pulled a small booklet from his pocket, leafing through it for a few moments. "No. . . Not here. Not A Very Good Town Town. . . Never meant to be. Mizu? No. . . No, not Mizu. Not yet. Make sure you preserve its stories. It is essential. Maybe I should stop. Where? Where is it-"

"Sir?"  
Karl lifted his head from above his notes, glancing at the butler in the doorway. That voice. . . that voice seemed familiar. "I have to ask you to leave the property."  
"No! I. . . I've got an invitation. " To his surprise, the man actually pulled out a card written in distinctive red ink from a book. He didn't even have to look at it closely to know that Billiam was its author. He breathed a calmer breath.  
"May I ask then with whom I have the pleasure?"  
"Karl. Karl Jacobs. I'm a writer and storyteller."

Butler just moved in the doorway, letting first guest inside.  
"The ceremonies are probably over by now. Sir Billiam and his guests will be appearing soon. Would you be willing to wait in the library?"  
Karl nodded, allowing himself to be led into a spacious room.

The library was...delightful. The walls are lined with mahogany bookcases, filled with books and souvenirs from all over the world. In the corner stood a piano, and over the fireplace, just below the portrait of the master of the house, someone hung a glass case. Inside was placed a beautiful netherite sword - probably a family heirloom. Karl couldn't take his eyes off it. Something about the shimmering blade mesmerized, attracted. As if it was the very reason he was here. He involuntarily reached out wanting to touch the glass.  
"Sir. I would advise you not to do that." The butler's sharp but polite tone brought him back to reality. Right.  
He sat down wordlessly awaiting the arrival of the rest.

\- * -

The wedding began a little after dusk, with the arrival of the bride and groom and their many friends. Dinner itself was no different from the typical banquets of the aristocracy - meals were served, guests toasted the newlyweds seated at the head of the table.   
The butler standing behind Billiam's chair felt more and more bitter as he listened to more wishes for eternal love and happiness. He glanced at Liaria several times, rather fleetingly. He could not afford to be impudent. The Lord's reputation, which had remained impeccable for years, depended on it. Therefore, without a word, he refilled the blonde's diluted wine, pushed back her chair as soon as she wanted to get up from the table and served whatever she needed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the party moved into the ballroom.

Butler took a seat behind the bar. Guests occupied chairs against the walls, chatted in small groups or danced to the sound of a orchestra that was just playing the first notes of a waltz. He wandered his eyes around the room looking for Billiam and found him almost immediately, leaning against a column, watching the room closely.  
"Um. . . Butler?" Boy heard a whisper. He didn't even notice when Karl squatted on a high stool, nervously pressing notebook against his chest.  
"Yes, Sir? What can I serve you tonight? Maybe wine? Rum? Brandy?"  
"No, thank you. Can... Can you tell me who these people are?"  
Butler just wrinkled his brows slightly. He hadn't expected such a question. Apparently Karl didn't really know how to relate to his surroundings.  
"Well. . . I don't know everyone. Sir Billiam has many friends. But there ner the window stands Lord Sebastian." The writer looked at the man with light brown hair and light robes. He had a black mask on his face decorated with a red rose. He seemed more interested in the contents of his glass than in talking to the guests around him. At the same time, he listened carefully to the butler's further words. " He married into a family of diamond tycoons and owners of numerous mines in Africa. Except for the title and the money from the marriage, he hasn't a penny to his name. "  
Karl nodded. The butler nodded towards another two men busy in discussion. "These two gentlemen are worth knowing. Sir Oliver of London. White fox furs produced by his factory are worn by all aristocrats in Europe. He's talking to Sir James. A terribly sad story..." Boy just shook his head gently, lowering voice even further. "Sir James owns a trading company on the route to China. Unfortunately, some time ago, almost his entire merchant fleet was burned. Unimaginable losses and debts dragged him down. His wife left him for an American politician and took the children with her." Karl kept his gaze on James longer. He knew him from somewhere only. . . from where? His object of observation pulled away from conversation with Oliver for a moment, feeling a burning gaze on him. James looked around, finally crossing his eyes with writer's.  
Karl could have sworn that this cheeky bastard even winked at him.

\- * -

Billiam hated parties of all kinds with all his hear.  
It was just another onerous duty he had to perform to keep his good name among the aristocracy. Sumptuous dinners, multi-day balls or masquerades... All this forced him to interact with people - often more stupid, poorer and irritating. He had to smile, nod, and answer more boring questions from potential matchmakers and decrepit aristocrats who dreamed of marrying their daughters into the Blade's family. The more daring mothers pressed the silly but undoubtedly charming girls into rich muslins and tight corsets whispering how to seduce a Frenchman. They didn't even need to bond more seriously - one more passionate night was enough for societa to start gossiping, and the attractiveness of the new "favorite" increased significantly.  
Billiam did not despair of this. Casual affairs and hook ups were fun. Especially when he was far away from home and did not have too many other things to do. He was a man and he had his needs. If these naive girls were pushing themselves into his rooms ... Why would he deny himself anything?  
But the thought of marriage came more and more often, like a nuisance tapping on the shoulder. The Voices. . . They, on the other hand, didn't understand it.  


_ "Is this an arranged marriage?"  
"Aww, isn't that adorable? Our Billiam will be a Parisian poodle on his lady's pillow."  
"Oh mon Dieu, such a simp".  
"You do it out of sheer convenience."  
"The panderer arc?" _

It was just that they never understood anything, so he didn't worry about it significantly.  
The Voices have always been with him - from childhood he was treated as insane, one of the doctors employed by his father described the condition as "delusional imagination". The matter was hushed up so as not to cause a scandal and Billiam learned over time to cut himself off from voices. But they were... a specific gift. Sometimes louder, sometimes quieter, sometimes just throwing a monotonous " _E_ " somewhere in the back of his head, sometimes acting like a sixth sense.  
And now, even they were not having a good time at his own wedding.  
  
_"Make them play something different. I hate Händel."_  
_"This wedding is lame! When will they serve the cake?"_  
_"James is adorable. On top of that, he got divorced~"_  
_"Billiam x James, anyone?"_

He squint under the mask, trying to cut himself off from dozens of whispers. They always got obnoxious when they got extremely excited about something. For some reason, their attention was now drawn to a depressed James.  
Suddenly, in a split second, there was a complete silence among them, which surprised even Pinkette. In the end, however, a shy whisper spoke:

 _"Why does this stupid girl dare to touch us?_ "

Billiam came to mind, indeed noticing that Liaria had timidly hugged his arm. He stopped the grimace of discontent and looked down on the petite blonde.  
"Darling, do you have fun? You look kinda tired..."  
He stiffened. He did not marry her for some nagging tenderness or ostentatious display of love. Voices began to whisper. They were angry, dissatisfied, demanding punishment...  
Lord breathed deeply, moving his hand along girl's back to her waist and sticking his fingers into the corset material. He sensed strong whalebones under his hand. If he could tie them tighter... Maybe she would learn not to waste air on triviality and stop speaking unquesatable.  
But for now, he had to keep that farce.

Pinkette tilted his head, bringing his mouth close to her bare neck, adorned only with a string of pearls - the engagement gift he had sent along with the letter to her guardians. The marriage proposal was simple and fair. Billiam did not even assume a refusal - Liaria was prepared from childhood to the role of wife and mother, and, as befits a woman from a good home, she was also able to behave in the company of the aristocracy. She was adorable, of classic beauty, and enough money to make a good candidate.  
And more importantly ... her father had died a few years earlier and she had no brother to lay claim to her family fortune. The girl trembled slightly at his touch.  
Dear God, why did women always have to be so pathetically weak and dramatic? They staggered on soft legs at any small, intimate gesture. He winced slightly as he ran the tip of his nose along the girl's pale skin. Liaria smelled like chocolate and whipped cream.  
Eventually, his mouth was right next to her ear.  
„Do. Not. Call. Me. That.” He whispered almost silently. There was an immediate cold threat in his tone, but from a distance it looked no different than the tenderness of the newlyweds. "I am your Husband and I demand respect, Liaria."  
His fingers tightened around her waist. The man's other hand went to her shoulder, and he gripped it tight enough that she couldn't get out. She was completely immobilized.  
„I just thought… ”she mumbled uncertainly looking around the ballroom. None of the guests noticed anything disturbing about their behavior.  
Billiam sighed, kissing her earlobe briefly.  
„Liaria… Go back to other women and your stupid, unimportant babling about whatever you talking there. And don’t make me teach you at your own wedding why you shouldn’t adressed me so disrespectfully”. He released her from his embrace. The girl immediately jumped off, correcting the dress. She stared for a moment at Billiam, who merely waved his hand in a speaking gesture - _come on, get out of here._  
She turned without a word on her heel, joining another group of talking guests, just trying to keep smiling and laughing.

\- * -

Pinkette heard soft footsteps behind him. He recognized them immediately. No one moved so silently.  
"Hubert, my little sunshine." He said softly as the fair-haired boy stepped closer, leaning out from behind the door leaf. The Voices hummed almost in love with the tiny servant who held one of the trays of glasses in his hands. The drink in the pots was a deep, dark red color. "Remember to treat Sir Oliver and Lord Sebastian. I think Lady Liaria should have a drink too..." The boy lifted the tray, proposing without a word one of the glasses to his master. Liquid inside, though reminiscent of wine, had little to do with it. In a strongly herbal fragrance, the taste had a metallic, sweet aftertaste. The last thing Billiam heard, just after drinking few sips, was a Voice on the back of his head, standing out from the others. A stronger, hoarse whisper.  
_Blood for the blood God._

\- * - 

Several things happened at once.  
The ballroom door banged open from an unnaturally strong gust of wind. All the candles and oil lamps went out at the same time.  
There was complete silence among the guests for a few seconds.  
And then there was a panic.

The butler silently watched as the frightened guests rushed to the front door. Few of them remained stationary in their places.  
Oliver ... Sebastian ... James ... Liaria ... Billiam.  
The rest must have left the property, scared.  
"What ..." Karl looked around nervously. When he looked again at the place where the butler had stood. No one was there anymore.  
The boy vanished into thin air.

Immediately afterwards, a shrill male scream was heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voices Pog?


End file.
